so glad, my child, that you've got over safe. It is all
ready, and everything so well arranged, that nothing but misfortune
could hinder you settling as, with God's grace, becomes 'ee. Close to
your mother's door a'most, 'twill be a great blessing, I'm sure; and
I was very glad to find from your letters that you'd held your word
sacred. That's right--make your word your bond always. Mrs Wace seems
to be a sensible woman. I hope the Lord will do for her as he's doing
for you no long time hence. And how did 'ee get over the terrible
journey from Tor-upon-Sea to Pen-zephyr? Once you'd done with the
railway, of course, you seemed quite at home. Well, Baptista, conduct
yourself seemly, and all will be well.'

Thus admonished, Baptista entered the house, her father and Mr
Heddegan immediately at her back. Her mother had been so didactic that
she had felt herself absolutely unable to broach the subjects in the
centre of her mind.

The familiar room, with the dark ceiling, the well-spread table, the
old chairs, had never before spoken so eloquently of the times ere she
knew or had heard of Charley Stow. She went upstairs to take off her
things, her mother remaining below to complete the disposition of the
supper, and attend to the preparation of tomorrow's meal, altogether
composing such an array of pies, from pies of fish to pies of turnips,
as was never heard of outside the Western Duchy. Baptista, once alone,
sat down and did nothing; and was called before she had taken off her
bonnet.

'I'm coming,' she cried, jumping up, and speedily disapparelling
herself, brushed her hair with a few touches and went down.

Two or three of Mr Heddegan's and her father's friends had dropped in,
and expressed their sympathy for the delay she had been subjected
to. The meal was a most merry one except to Baptista. She had desired
privacy, and there was none; and to break the news was already a
greater difficulty than it had been at first. Everything around her,
animate and inanimate, great and small, insisted that she had come
home to be married; and she could not get a chance to say nay.

One or two people sang songs, as overtures to the melody of the
morrow, till at length bedtime came, and they all withdrew, her mother
having retired a little earlier. When Baptista found herself again
alone in her bedroom the case stood as before: she had come home with
much to say, and she had said nothing.

It was now growing clear even to hersel